Truth
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: Pre-season 4


TRUTH

"Mr. Cole, thank you for your cooperation, we'll be in touch," Decker pocketed her notebook.

The tall man acknowledged with a slight nod. "My pleasure, Detective. I'll tell my office to direct your calls to my private line, should any emergency arise. Be assured I'm at your entire disposal."

"What did I miss," Lucifer waltzed in around the sergeant stationed behind the police tape, "glorious morning for a gruesome murder, and what a view!" he rejoiced, facing the wall to wall window. He took in at once Cole's elegant Prince of Wales check three piece suit, the monogrammed tiepin, and the classic Church's Oxford lace-up shoes. "I'm sorry, have we met, your face seems oddly familiar, last spring in Vegas?" Cole stared at him like he would a weird insect pinned down in a glass case at the Natural History Museum. But Lucifer was oblivious. "Don't tell me: Aspen!" he exclaimed wagging his finger. "Or was it New York City," his brow furrowed in concentration, "no, no, it could not possibly be at the…"

"Cole, Jeffrey Cole," the host interrupted.

"Of course!" Lucifer seemed positively elated. "THE Jeffrey Cole, but where are my manners," extending a hand, "Lucifer, Lucifer Morn…"

Chloe Decker ostensibly turned her back to him. "Mr. Morningstar, current consultant with the LAPD. Thank you again, Mr. Cole." She took a deep breath, and left.

Lucifer snorted and waved his hand, "I'm sorry about Detective Decker, but police work takes a toll on the best of us," he took Cole's hand in both his with genuine enthusiasm, his face beaming. "Perhaps we should arrange a meet, reminisce…"

Cole cleverly extricated his hand. "I don't think so. Be seeing you, Mr. Morningstar."

Unapologetic, his secretary shrugged. "You caught Mr. Cole at a difficult time," he commented matter of factly in a thick Welsh accent. "He quite valued this particular assistant, she's been with us for almost two decades. I'll take my leave now. Feel free to see yourself out. I reckon Detective Decker is waiting for you downstairs."

And she was, pacing the ground floor lobby, her phone pressed to her ear. "Monkey, we had this talk like ages ago. You don't… No, no, that's not what I meant! Monkey!" she squealed.

A pretty uniformed cop grinned. "Children," she whispered to her colleague.

"Really?" Chloe was looking at the screen. "She hangs up on me now?"

"You look rather flabbergasted, Detective, is everything alright," Lucifer interrupted.

"Trixie, she…" Her face changed. "You don't talk to me, right?" she sniggered. "Why are you even here? We didn't call for you. I did not call for you!" she corrected.

"Police radio chatter. Murder and dismemberment," he mused. "I thought it should be fun."

"Of course you would. Well, you're not needed. You can go back to wherever you're needed… elsewhere. Whatever," she gave up, walking away.

"Hey, hey, stop, what's wrong?" Lucifer looked sincerely taken aback.

"Apart from you being… being…"

Lucifer came closer. "The Devil? The Light Bearer? Satan?" he said hoarsely.

"Stop, stop immediately! I… I didn't sign for this insanity, how could you!" she pointed an accusing finger at him. The remaining police force glanced sideways, curious. Lucifer stood straighter, hands deep inside his pockets, looking puzzled. Chloe's head dropped on her chest. "Come on, don't stand here like you don't know…" she mumbled.

"I don't understand Detective. I told you everything the first time we met. I would never lie to you, you must know that by now, we are a team. And the Devil does not lie, ever."

She pulled him outside by his designer jacket, despite his weak protestations and display of innocence. "We're not doing this here. Too many eyes and ears. Come on. Let's get going."

She picked up the pace and turned around once she was by her car. "Of course you would say that, I thought you... you were a lunatic, for crying out loud! I had you babysit my daughter, Lucifer! My daughter," she lamented.

"And Trixie was perfectly safe."

Chloe finally glanced at him. He looked distraught and annoyed at the same time. Before she could react, he reached out to her, sturdily holding her shoulders. "Your hair looks amazing. Did you get highlights?" His voice was even, his smile amicable.

"What do you want from me?," she moaned while she struggled to get out.

"I'm just a retired old rapscallion, I would never hurt you nor your family... except maybe Detective Douche," he smiled.

"Stop, please, let me go."

"What do I want from you? Alright, I want you to close your eyes."

She stopped struggling. "What are you gonna do to me?" she stared sternly.

"Oh Detective, I think you know what I would like to do to you by now," he said. When she continued to stare, "sorry, force of habit, close your eyes. Nothing will happen, we are in front of a burly mansion in Berveley Hills, surrounded by half the cops from your precinct."

"Okay," she obeyed, "eyes closed."

"What do you see?"

She chuckled. "Trick question! I don't see anything."

He sighed. "Listen to my voice. How do you picture me, what do you see?"

"I see," she paused. "I see you, I mean the usual you," she opened her eyes, "not the..."

"Monster?"

"Yeah you're right. The guy who did it was a monster," Ella Lopez chirped in. "First he made her drink. He probably dosed her with scopolamine..."

"The Devil's breath, fascinating," Lucifer explained.

"… or injected her with a neuromuscular blocking agent. I'm kind of hoping she was out before he managed to cut into her," Ella frowned.

"She was already half-cut," Lucifer joked. Both women gaped at him. "Too soon?"

"I'll know more once I completed the autopsy."

"Thank you Ella. If no physical strenght was required, the killer could be a woman?"

"Yeah, a child can operate a chainsaw, no problemo."

"Great, equal opportunity," Chloe said.

"No prejudice," said Lucifer with an intent gaze.


End file.
